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  • Title: Edward III (Modern)
  • Editors: Amy Lidster, Sonia Massai

  • Copyright Sonia Massai and Amy Lidster. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editors: Amy Lidster, Sonia Massai
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Edward III (Modern)

    [Scene 12]
    Enter Prince Edward, Audley and others.
    Prince
    Audley, the arms of death embrace us round,
    And comfort have we none save that to die
    We pay sour earnest for a sweeter life.
    1920At Crécy field our clouds of warlike smoke
    Choked up those French mouths and dissevered them,
    But now their multitudes of millions hide,
    Masking as 'twere the beauteous burning sun,
    Leaving no hope to us but sullen dark
    1925And eyeless terror of all-ending night.
    Audley
    This sudden, mighty, and expedient head
    That they have made, fair Prince, is wonderful.
    Before us in the valley lies the King,
    Vantaged with all that heaven and earth can yield,
    1930His party stronger battled than our whole.
    His son, the braving Duke of Normandy,
    Hath trimmed the mountain on our right hand up
    In shining plate, that now the aspiring hill
    Shows like a silver quarry, or an orb
    1935Aloft the which the banners, bannerets,
    And new-replenished pendants cuff the air
    And beat the winds, that for their gaudiness
    Struggles to kiss them. On our left hand lies
    Philip, the younger issue of the King,
    1940Coting the other hill in such array
    That all his gilded upright pikes do seem
    Straight trees of gold; the pendants, leaves,
    And their device of antique heraldry,
    Quartered in colors seeming sundry fruits,
    1945Makes it the orchard of the Hesperides.
    Behind us too the hill doth bear his height,
    For like a half-moon opening but one way,
    It rounds us in -- there at our backs are lodged
    The fatal crossbows, and the battle there
    1950Is governed by the rough Chatillon.
    Then thus it stands: the valley for our flight
    The King binds in, the hills on either hand
    Are proudly royalizèd by his sons,
    And on the hill behind stands certain death
    1955In pay and service with Chatillon.
    Prince
    Death's name is much more mighty than his deeds;
    Thy parcelling this power hath made it more.
    As many sands as these my hands can hold
    Are but my handful of so many sands;
    1960Then, all the world, and call it but a power,
    Easily ta'en up and quickly thrown away.
    But if I stand to count them sand by sand,
    The number would confound my memory
    And make a thousand millions of a task
    1965Which briefly is no more indeed than one.
    These quarters, squadrons, and these regiments,
    Before, behind us, and on either hand,
    Are but a power. When we name a man,
    His hand, his foot, his head hath several strengths,
    1970And being all but one self instant strength.
    Why, all this many, Audley, is but one,
    And we can call it all but one man's strength.
    He that hath far to go, tells it by miles;
    If he should tell the steps, it kills his heart.
    1975The drops are infinite that make a flood,
    And yet thou knowst we call it but a rain.
    There is but one France, one King of France:
    That France hath no more kings, and that same king
    Hath but the puissant legion of one king;
    1980And we have one. Then apprehend no odds,
    For one to one is fair equality.
    Enter a Herald from King John.
    What tidings, messenger? Be plain and brief.
    1 Herald
    The King of France, my sovereign lord and master,
    1985Greets by me his foe, the Prince of Wales.
    If thou call forth a hundred men of name,
    Of lords, knights, esquires and English gentlemen,
    And with thyself and those kneel at his feet,
    He straight will fold his bloody colors up
    1990And ransom shall redeem lives forfeited.
    If not, this day shall drink more English blood
    Then e're was buried in our Breton earth.
    What is the answer to his proffered mercy?
    Prince
    This heaven that covers France contains the mercy
    1995That draws from me submissive orisons;
    That such base breath should vanish from my lips
    To urge the plea of mercy to a man
    The Lord forbid. Return and tell thy king
    My tongue is made of steel, and it shall beg
    2000My mercy on his coward burgonet.
    Tell him my colors are as red as his,
    My men as bold, our English arms as strong:
    Return him my defiance in his face.
    1 Herald
    I go.
    [Exit Herald.]
    2005Enter another [Herald].
    Prince
    What news with thee?
    2 Herald
    The Duke of Normandy, my lord and master,
    Pitying thy youth is so engirt with peril,
    By me hath sent a nimble-jointed jennet,
    2010As swift as ever yet thou didst bestride,
    And therewithal he counsels thee to fly,
    Else death himself hath sworn that thou shalt die.
    Prince
    Back with the beast unto the beast that sent him!
    Tell him I cannot sit a coward's horse;
    2015Bid him today bestride the jade himself,
    For I will stain my horse quite o'er with blood
    And double gild my spurs, but I will catch him.
    So tell the cap'ring boy, and get thee gone.
    [Exit 2 Herald.]
    Enter another [Herald].
    20203 Herald
    Edward of Wales, Philip the second son
    To the most mighty Christian King of France,
    Seeing thy body's living date expired,
    All full of charity and Christian love,
    Commends this book full fraught with prayers
    2025To thy fair hand, and, for thy hour of life,
    Entreats thee that thou meditate therein
    And arm thy soul for her long journey towards.
    Thus have I done his bidding, and return.
    Prince
    Herald of Philip, greet thy lord from me.
    2030All good that he can send I can receive,
    But thinkst thou not the unadvisèd boy
    Hath wronged himself in thus far tend'ring me?
    Haply he cannot pray without the book,
    I think him no divine extemporal.
    2035Then render back this commonplace of prayer
    To do himself good in adversity.
    Besides, he knows not my sins' quality,
    And therefore knows no prayers for my avail.
    Ere night his prayer may be to pray to God
    2040To put it in my heart to hear his prayer --
    So tell the courtly wanton, and be gone.
    3 Herald
    I go.
    [Exit 3 Herald.]
    Prince
    How confident their strength and number makes them!
    Now, Audley, sound those silver wings of thine
    2045And let those milk-white messengers of time
    Show thy time's learning in this dangerous time.
    Thyself art busy and bit with many broils,
    And stratagems forepast with iron pens
    Are texted in thine honorable face.
    2050Thou art a married man in this distress,
    But danger woos me as a blushing maid:
    Teach me an answer to this perilous time.
    Audley
    To die is all as common as to live,
    The one in choice, the other holds in chase;
    2055For from the instant we begin to live
    We do pursue and hunt the time to die.
    First bud we, then we blow, and after seed,
    Then presently we fall, and as a shade
    Follows the body, so we follow death.
    2060If then we hunt for death, why do we fear it?
    If we fear it, why do we follow it?
    If we do fear, how can we shun it?
    If we do fear, with fear we do but aid
    The thing we fear to seize on us the sooner.
    2065If we fear not, then no resolvèd proffer
    Can overthrow the limit of our fate;
    For whether ripe or rotten, drop we shall,
    As we do draw the lottery of our doom.
    Prince
    Ah, good old man, a thousand thousand armors
    2070These words of thine have buckled on my back.
    Ah, what an idiot hast thou made of life
    To seek the thing it fears; and how disgraced
    The imperial victory of murd'ring death,
    Since all the lives his conquering arrows strike
    2075Seek him, and he not them, to shame his glory.
    I will not give a penny for a life,
    Nor half a halfpenny to shun grim death;
    Since for to live is but to seek to die,
    And dying but beginning of new life.
    2080Let come the hour when he that rules it will,
    To live or die I hold indifferent.
    Exeunt.